Frost and Flowers
by Seyy13
Summary: He was the perpetual frost, but still her flowers managed to survive the whole winter. A strange phenomenon, but one that was expected nontheless. Sasu/Saku drabbles. /#4: Fists, Swords, and Bones\
1. Naturality

A/N: So, after a ridiculously long hiatus for which I have no excuse, I am back!

This is just a series of drabbles which are hypothetically Sasu/Saku, but I suppose you could interpret them anyway you like. Leave me feedback, in the form of reviews, they make me happy. This is not going to be periodically updated; if I have spontaneous inspiration from my ever-elusive muses, then the result will probably go down here. This isn't a chapter story, just a collection of oneshots that have absolutely nothing to do with each other.

That being said, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto, wish I did, but I don't and I guess that's that!

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Drabble #1: Naturality

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_This was completely and utterly ridiculous_, she thought, and she knew that he was thinking it too. It was natural – they often shared each other's thoughts, that was how well she'd gotten to know him – but sometimes, even at this point she felt like she didn't know him at all. People were not lying when they called him a block of ice.

He was as untouchable and as unmeltable as ice, he felt like ice, hell, his eyes, they _were_ ice in its purest form…

She'd always hoped she'd be able to change that.

He'd never thought about letting her, but it was just natural. She was going to get under his skin sooner or later, that's just the kind of person she was.

But it was completely and utterly ridiculous how both of them sat under the same moon and the same stars and wished for better days – when he was so painfully aware of reality and she was supposedly so content where she was now.

Things always had a tendency to change. It was just natural.


	2. The View Outside

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Stop rubbing it in.

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Drabble #2: The View Outside

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"Take your time," she had said. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here for you."

"I need to think," had been his response.

She hadn't asked about what, and he was grateful. It scared him enough how she was able to read him like an open book sometimes. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. It was supposed to be him reading her, him always knowing exactly what was running through her head. But she surprised him. He was surprised at the realization that he didn't always know what she was thinking about. In a way she was so much deeper than he was, just because she liked to stop and enjoy the view from where she was.

In that way, she'd seen more.

In the end, he mused, perhaps that was all that mattered. But of one thing now he was sure. He wanted to look out the window and observe what he saw, not pass over it because it didn't have a _purpose_.

"Take your time," she had said. "Take all the time you need."

_I'll be here for you._


	3. Cliff's Edge

A/N: Review! I'm rather proud of this one, actually.

Disclaimer: Don't. Own. It.

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Drabble #3: Cliff's Edge

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Standing at the edge of a precipice and staring down in to the yawning nothing was not as wonderfully breathtaking and mind blowing as he would have expected. There was no exhilaration, no rush of adrenaline. Instead, he actually felt rather…scared.

Him, scared. Ridiculous. Fear was not an emotion that he knew how to feel. But there it was, and it felt new and raw, eating him from inside out.

Was this what they called the point of no return? It was either down, suicide, or stay where you are and rot. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

He had to start somewhere.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared to leap into insanity when a soft but strong hand caught his wrist and pulled him back.

_Your place is here,_ the beautiful, ethereal voice whispered, and he could practically touch the cherry blossoms that he could hear and smell floating around him, fluttering in a wind that he knew was not there.

His eyes opened, and met the crystal clear green eyes of the girl gazing down at his face. In his head, a smooth and beautiful green valley replaced the grey and craggy rocks of the cliff.

_My place is here._


	4. Fists, Swords, and Bones

A/N: Please review.

Disclaimer: As always...

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Drabble #4: Fists, Swords, and Bones

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The moment he lay his hands on the sword (a beautifully sleek katana, it was), he knew that this was the weapon that would be at his side when he brought his demons down.

She, on the other hand, preferred her fists.

The sword gave him a sense of elegance – it sounded conceited, but he felt old, powerful, and lordly whenever he held one. There was an art in the handling of the sword, not just anyone could do it. It required skill, finesse, restraint; he shuddered at thought of a certain blonde even trying. The blade was ice. In order to wield it to its full potential, one had to come to know the nature of ice and eventually become one with it.

Her fists gave a her sense of strength; she was a girl, but she was _not_ vulnerable, she was _not_ an easy target, and God save anyone who underestimated her, because she'd beat them to a bloody pulp with her bare hands, old school. There was no art in this style of combat– but there was raw sense of accomplishment, of power, of pride. It was more fighting with your instincts than anything else. The feeling of superior bad ass-ery that came with it wasn't bad either.

He thought her too weak and too indelicate to handle sword arts – whereas when she grew older, she thought him less of a man for not using his bare hands in a fair fight. That was just dishonorable. But what their personal preference in fighting styles highlighted more than anything were the differences between the two of them – it showed just how much they had never known each other and how much they had grown apart.

And so when she swung her fist at him and he drew his sword and faced her, it was their way of saying _'Let's change that.'_

They weren't breaking any bones yet, but it was evident that a few would have to be sacrificed before they got to where they wanted to be.


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